<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>tremor by aude_sapere</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466309">tremor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aude_sapere/pseuds/aude_sapere'>aude_sapere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove is a Little Shit, Blood and Violence, Dart appreciation hours, Dart just missed Dustin guys, Dungeons &amp; Dragons, Dustin Henderson Is the Best, Dustin is honestly probably scarred for life by this, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Steve Harrington, Sort Of, Steve Harrington's Nail Bat, This is actually kinda sad i wont lie, billy finds out about the upside down, d'Artagnan - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:22:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aude_sapere/pseuds/aude_sapere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, shit,” Dustin says.</p><p>Parked up by the house is a very familiar blue Camaro, the red glow of the taillights bright against the snow.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove &amp; Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Pre Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington &amp; Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington &amp; The Party</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tremor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so this was originally going to be a 5+1 fic of steve telling billy "bite me" because i thought that would be funny as shit, but writers block said no, so have this little thing instead.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>January 5th, 1985.</strong>
</p><p>Ever since early November, Steve has fallen into the habit of chauffeuring the kids around Hawkins, whether that be a ride home from school or to the Wheeler residence. He’s not even sure how exactly he got roped into it; just that one day when he was picking up Dustin from the arcade, he’d asked Steve if he could also give Max a ride.</p><p>“Her parents are out of town,” Dustin had said. Steve wondered about Billy, why he couldn’t come pick her up. Still, Steve had given Max a lift.</p><p>Once the other kids heard about it, it quickly became standard that Jonathan would drive Mike and Will, Hopper would take care of El, and Steve would grab Dustin, Lucas, and Max.</p><p>And Steve didn’t—doesn’t—mind it. It’s kind of nice actually. Not only does it give some impression of normalcy, but it keeps him out of the house for the most part.</p><p>“<em>No</em>, Dustin, just because it’s a book doesn’t <em>automatically </em>make it better than the movie!” Mike snaps.</p><p>Dustin spins around in the passenger seat, shouting. “Yes, it does, actually! And the movie adaptation deviates so much from the book it isn’t even the same story! <em>You’re</em> just pissy because El couldn’t come tonight!”</p><p>Steve sighs, rubbing at his temple.</p><p>Jonathan is out on a date with Nancy, though Steve is meant to believe they’re <em>studying </em>(except they’re still on Christmas Break), and Mrs. Byers is visiting with Hopper and El, per Hopper’s request for help with “parenting.”</p><p>Steve thinks it’s more of Hopper’s way of trying (and failing) to ask her out.</p><p>But Mrs. Byers had asked Steve if he could drive the kids from the arcade back to her house and watch them while she and Jonathan were out, and of course Steve had agreed.</p><p>And if he drives slower on the dark backroads to the Byers’ home, gaze scanning the thick foliage on both sides of the road for signs of movement? Well, he can blame it on the snow and the fact that he’s got four kids in the back of his car who aren’t buckled in.</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Dustin says, and Steve glances over at him momentarily before reaffixing his eyes to the trees. One last check.</p><p>He slows the Beemer down to a crawl and turns up the long gravel path that marks the driveway. Almost immediately, he understands Dustin’s remark.</p><p>Parked up by the house is a very familiar blue Camaro, the red glow of the taillights bright against the snow. The rumbling engine is audible even from Steve’s car.</p><p>Lucas peeks his head over Dustin’s shoulder. “Is that-”</p><p>“What the hell is <em>he </em>doing here?” Max spits. Before Steve can react, she’s throwing the back door open and clambering out.</p><p>Steve slams on the brakes, yelping. “Woah, Max, hey!”</p><p>She ignores him, stomping in the direction of Billy’s car.</p><p>“This is so not good,” Dustin whispers.</p><p>Steve turns in his seat at the sound of another door opening, and he groans when he sees Lucas sliding out of the car to follow her.</p><p>“Goddamn it,” he breathes. He looks over at Dustin, who shrugs helplessly.</p><p>With a weary sigh, Steve parks a short distance from Billy’s car and fixes Dustin with a look, glancing at Will and Mike in the backseat.</p><p>“Go inside, guys, I’ll send Lucas and Max with you. I’ll talk to him, alright?”</p><p>Dustin squawks in protest. “Steve, last time you ‘talked to him,’ he beat your face in!”</p><p>While entirely true, it still makes his pride sting a little when it’s brought up. He’s actually got a scar up by his hairline from where Billy had smashed the plate over his head.</p><p>“That was forever ago,” Steve says simply. “I haven’t even seen him since that night.”</p><p>Also true, if one excludes brief glances in the halls and slightly awkward basketball practices.</p><p>They’ve barely exchanged more than five words since that night in November.</p><p>“This is a bad idea,” Will mumbles doubtfully.</p><p>Steve urges the boys out of the car and towards the porch. “Get inside.”</p><p>Will and Mike don’t argue, but Dustin hesitates, face comically concerned. A hard look from Steve has him scuttling up to the house, snow crunching under his boots. He stops on the porch with Mike and Will, gloved hands gripping the rail.</p><p>The sound of a car door slamming is like a gunshot. Steve jolts at the sound of it.</p><p>“What the hell, Billy?” Max calls, anger coloring her tone.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Steve says under his breath, shooting the boys on the porch a look as he walks over to the Camaro.</p><p>“Just get in the damn car, Maxine. I don’t have time for this,” Billy says.</p><p> “Mom said I was allowed to come to session tonight.”</p><p>“You spent the entire day at the arcade with your friends,” Billy scoffs. “I have a date tonight and Neil said I have to have you home by eleven, so get in the car.”</p><p>The fiery redhead holds her ground.</p><p>Billy leans against the side of the Camaro. “I’m not asking, Max.”</p><p>It’s a pleading look from Lucas that finally propels Steve into action. He steps forward.</p><p>“Hey, man, why not just let them play their game? I can get her home by eleven.”</p><p>Billy just looks at him, expression unreadable.</p><p>Steve shifts, tucking his cold hands into the pockets of his coat. “Look, just- it’s a weekend. It’s the last day they get to hang out before school starts back up. Can’t you cut her some slack?”</p><p> “And what? Let her ride home with you?” Billy huffs a little laugh. “Yeah, no can do, amigo.”</p><p>Steve sighs. He knew, realistically, that it wasn’t going to be that easy, but he’d still been hopeful.</p><p>“Lucas, Max, can you guys head inside?” he asks, not looking away from Billy. He tenses, prepares for Billy to demand Max stay and get into the car, but the order never comes.</p><p>Neither of the kids move, and Steve finally, reluctantly, has to break eye contact with Billy to usher them towards the house. He waits until all five of the little pests are fully inside, front door latched, before turning back to Billy.</p><p>He’s definitely dressed for a date, but severely underdressed for the cold weather. He has on a soft-looking maroon button-up, layered overtop with only his leather jacket.</p><p>A sudden chill of déjà vu creeps down his spine when he connects the parallels of then to now.</p><p>Uncomfortable, and a little bit nervous, Steve glances back at the house, a literal beacon of light in the darkness. The moon is nearly full, but its faint glow is dampened by the woods around them.</p><p>There is no sign of traffic on the road, and the quiet stillness presses on Steve’s ears, makes him jittery. His eyes scan the tree-line, but he sees nothing.</p><p>“Do you, uh- you wear the same outfit for all your dates?” Steve asks, even the sound of his own voice better than the silence. He remembers the same shirt-jacket combo from that night in November. A few days after, while Steve’s face was still healing, Max told him that Billy apparently had a date that night, and that’s why he had been so quick to anger.</p><p>Billy barks out a quiet, surprised laugh, and it sounds genuine enough to give Steve pause.</p><p>“Yeah, actually, I do,” Billy says, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. He slips a hand in his jacket pocket to retrieve a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter. Steve watches, silent, as Billy tucks a cigarette between his lips and lights it. He shakes the pack in his hand, holding it out towards Steve in offering.</p><p>Taken aback, it’s a moment before Steve can think of a proper reply. “No thanks man, I’m tryin’ to quit.”</p><p>Billy blinks at him, then shrugs and tucks the pack back into his pocket.</p><p>They stand there in the cold long enough for Steve to notice a slight tremor to Billy’s shoulders.</p><p>He sighs. “Are you sure I can’t just take her home after their game? It’s really not an issue. I planned on taking the others home anyway.” <em>It’s not like I had any other plans for tonight</em>, he doesn’t add.</p><p>Billy frowns at him, a pinched annoyance that hadn’t been there before. He scoffs and pulls the cigarette from his lips, flicking the ashes onto the ground.</p><p>“Listen, I don’t know what she’s told you and I really don’t care; but she’s not the one who gets chewed out when she pulls shit like this. I guarantee ya, my dad sees her come home in <em>your</em> car?”</p><p>Billy shakes his head, scoffing. That spark of annoyance has risen to a tight bitterness. Not quite anger, but close to it.</p><p>Steve purses his lips a little. “Come on, man, it can’t be <em>that </em>bad.”</p><p>Billy’s eyes flash. He steps closer, posture immediately snapping from semi-relaxed to something stiff and intense, something Steve unconsciously mirrors.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Billy says quietly, voice dark and maybe a little bit terrifying. “What, just because <em>King Steve </em>has the perfect life and perfect parents, that means everyone else does?”</p><p>The blood rushes thick and hot through his veins. No one has ever gotten him as quick to anger as Billy fucking Hargrove.</p><p>“<em>Bite me</em>, asshole,” Steve snaps. “You-”</p><p>Billy grabs him by the front of his coat, whirling him around to slam him against the side of the idling Camaro. His cigarette falls into the snow.</p><p>The impact doesn’t really hurt, but the sound of it is loud—loud enough to make Steve freeze up, hold his breath.</p><p>Billy holds him there, pressed up against the car. He says something sharp and nasty, but Steve doesn’t listen, gaze locked past Billy’s shoulder, on the tree-line. His eyes, his eyes won’t fucking adjust. But there’s something there.</p><p>Steve swears he can hear it breathing, can just make out the dark, hunched shape of it.</p><p>“You hear me, Harrington?” Billy snarls. As if to reiterate his point, he pulls Steve forward and slams him back against the car.</p><p>The dark silhouette jolts and darts out of sight.</p><p>Something snaps in the woods, and the sound might as well be a gunshot. Steve’s heart leaps, threatens to burst right out of his chest.</p><p>He jerks in Billy’s grasp, eyes scanning rapidly over the trees to find the demodog.</p><p>Billy’s grip tightens, and he grunts. “The fuck is going on with you?”</p><p>“Let me go, I need my bat-”</p><p>“What are you-”</p><p>“My bat, my bat, my <em>fucking bat</em>-” Steve’s voice splinters, words no longer audible as his chest heaves. The demodog, where is the demodog?</p><p>He hears something crack further into the woods. It’s running.</p><p>Steve shoves at Billy’s arms, desperation growing. Billy just holds him tighter.</p><p>“Let me go, you son of a bitch, <em>let me go!”</em> Steve yells, voice breathless and hitching. His eyes remain locked on the woods.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> is going on with you, Harrington?” Billy says, bewildered.</p><p>Steve halts in his struggles, locks his gaze on Billy’s and forces it to stay there. He grips Billy’s biceps and inhales, breath catching.</p><p>“You need to get inside,” he says quietly, voice cracking. He takes another shallow breath, hysteria bubbling up when Billy doesn’t move. “I’m fucking serious, Billy, you can’t stay out here.”</p><p>Billy’s grip loosens minutely, his eyes flicking between Steve’s. He finally seems to latch onto the urgency of the situation, glancing over to the front door of the house. His eyes dart back to Steve, narrowing.</p><p>“What about you?”</p><p>“I have to get my <em>bat</em>,” Steve stresses, yanking himself free from Billy’s hold. Billy lets him, taking a small step back. Steve waves a hand towards the house, hissing, “Get inside!”</p><p>Steve doesn’t wait to see if Billy is going to listen or not. He slips around him and rushes over to the Beemer. He pops the trunk and pulls his bat free. He hesitates, then shuts the trunk quietly.</p><p>The demodog had ran when it heard him and Billy. It ran <em>away </em>from the sound instead of towards it. It’s not behavior Steve has seen from a demodog before.</p><p>It terrifies him.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em>.”</p><p>Steve whirls around, raising the bat defensively. He expects Billy to be looking out into the woods, expects him to have seen something.</p><p>Except Billy’s eyes are locked on Steve.</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em>,” Billy repeats, his voice an odd mix of mangled emotions.</p><p>“<em>What</em>,” Steve snaps, confused and on edge.</p><p>“That fucking <em>bat</em>, Harrington, that’s <em>what</em>,” Billy snarls through gritted teeth. His face is paler than Steve’s ever seen it. “Max almost <em>killed </em>me with that thing.”</p><p>Before Steve can reply to that, the front door swings open.</p><p>“Steve?” Dustin calls, voice squeaking, eyes round and wide at the sight of the bat in Steve’s hands.</p><p>A soft, plosive sound comes from the woods, from the same direction the demodog had fled. Steve spins towards it, white-knuckling the bat with shaking hands.</p><p>“Billy,” Steve whispers, an exhale of breath. “Billy, you need-”</p><p>The demodog breaks from the tree-line in an explosion of snow and sound. It shrieks, face opening up to reveal a starburst of teeth, teeth, <em>teeth</em>.</p><p>Steve can’t move.</p><p>“What the fuck, what the <em>fuck is that?”</em> Billy yells, voice bordering on hysterical, and Steve can’t move.</p><p>“<em>Holy</em> <em>fucking</em> <em>shit!”</em> Dustin screams. The demodog cocks its head, steps out of the shadows and onto the hard-packed snow marking the driveway. The faint glow from the porch light illuminates the creature, highlights the sickly green-tinted skin and the sharp jut of bones.</p><p>And Steve can’t move.</p><p>“<em>Steve!” </em>Dustin screeches, his voice reaching a pitch Steve didn’t know was possible. “<em>Get the fuck up here!”</em></p><p>The demodog screams in response, an unnatural, echoing sound that raises the hair along Steve’s arms. Then it lopes forward, making a beeline for the house.</p><p>Steve moves.</p><p>He flies forward and brings the bat down, just barely skimming the dog’s back. Still, this stops it in its tracks.</p><p>Snarling, the demodog whirls around, face blooming like a flower with rows upon rows of teeth. It lunges at Steve.</p><p>Steve swings the bat, catches the side of the demodog’s head. The impact sends vibrations up Steve’s arms. The creature yelps, a piercing scream as it tumbles into the snow.</p><p>Steve’s bat goes with it, ripped right out of his hands.</p><p>He freezes, hands clenching on air. The demodog whines, paws at the bat stuck in its face. With a snarl, the dog shakes its head, sends the bloodied bat flying. It lands in the snow, far from the house.</p><p>Mike and Lucas and Dustin are all shouting from the front porch, and Billy is frighteningly silent.</p><p>Dustin’s voice overlaps the other boys’. “<em>Goddamn it, </em>Steve! Get up here!”</p><p>The demodog turns towards the porch once again. The boys immediately go quiet, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The demodog starts towards the house, and Steve doesn’t even think. His feet nearly slip out from under him in his haste to put himself between the dog and the boys.</p><p>Steve plants his feet in front of the stairs, arms out to his sides as if he’s some sort of human barrier.</p><p>The demodog stops.</p><p>Then it starts to growl; a low, vibrating frequency that will certainly feature in Steve’s nightmares.</p><p>Despite the fear-sweat beading on his temples and the too-fast rabbiting of his pulse, Steve stubbornly refuses to move. Even as the growling becomes louder, raising in pitch. Even as the demodog leans back on its haunches, muscles tense and ready to spring.</p><p>“Wait,” Dustin says sharply, suddenly. Steve hears him move behind him, but he doesn’t turn to look, eyes locked on the demodog. As such, Steve flinches in surprise when Dustin ducks under his arm.</p><p>“<em>Dustin</em>,” Steve hisses. He grabs him, pulls him to his side. The demodog snarls, steps closer.</p><p>“Steve, let go of me,” Dustin says, his voice calm and sure.</p><p>“Are you fucking <em>crazy?” </em>Steve whispers. His grip tightens around Dustin’s shoulders.</p><p>“No, seriously,” Dustin says, “it’s okay.”</p><p>When Steve still refuses to budge, Dustin heaves a sigh, sticking a hand out towards the demodog.</p><p>“Dart,” Dustin says softly. “Heyyy, buddy. Steve’s not gonna hurt me, Steve’s a friend.”</p><p>The demodog’s growls peter out, its stance loosening slightly.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a good boy,” Dustin coos.</p><p>Steve catches a shift of movement just past the demodog. His gaze drags up, heart stuttering at the sight of Billy shifting towards the bat.</p><p>“Billy-” Steve starts, but Dart growls at the sound of his voice, a warning.</p><p>“Steve, shut the fuck up,” Dustin says slowly, in the same ridiculously soft tone. When Steve looks at him, he’s still staring at Dart, smiling a little as if in encouragement.</p><p>Steve looks back at Billy, who is leaning down towards the ground, carefully pulling the bat from the snow. He wraps both hands around it, gaze flicking up and locking with Steve’s.</p><p><em>Move slowly,</em> Steve tries to project with just his face.</p><p>Billy either gets the message or he’s got some amount of common sense, for he takes a slow, measured step forward. Snow crunches beneath his boot, and both Steve and Billy flinch. Dart makes a sound almost like a snarl, head starting to turn.</p><p>“Dart, hey hey hey,” Dustin says quickly, the soft edge dropping slightly in his panic. “Hey, buddy, look- look what I’ve got.”</p><p>Dustin sticks a hand out behind him and makes a furious grabbing motion. Lucas sticks his head inside, then emerges with something in his hand. He passes it along to Dustin, who brings it forward to present it to Dart. “Not as good as 3 Musketeers, but still pretty good if you ask me. You look like you haven’t eaten in a while.”</p><p>The crinkling of the package regains Dart’s attention. Dustin quickly peels the wrapper away and gently tosses the miniature candy bar into the snow at Dart’s feet.</p><p>Billy is only a few feet away now, almost within striking distance. The demodog leans down towards the candy bar, seems to sniff it; its face opens up, slowly.</p><p>Just as the demodog gets the candy bar into its gaping mouth, Billy brings the bat down onto its back.</p><p>There is a sharp, horrible cracking sound, and Dart shrieks. Billy raises the bat, black blood flying into the snow, and he brings it down again.</p><p>A small, choked noise comes from Dustin, and Steve turns to see his horrified gaze locked on the sight before him. He spins Dustin around, shoves him up the stairs and through the front door. Max is in the foyer, her eyes wide and bright.</p><p>By the time Steve manages to get all the kids back in the house and the door shut, Billy is done. The bat is propped against the ground, leaning against Billy’s palm. Small flecks of black freckle his face, hair hanging in his eyes.</p><p>Steve’s gaze shifts down to the dog, but only for a second. Only long enough to confirm the thing is dead.</p><p>Then his eyes are back on Billy, on the shuttered expression on his face, on the tight draw of his shoulders.</p><p>“You, uh.” Steve swallows. “You okay?”</p><p>Billy’s gaze ticks upwards from the corpse at their feet. Lands on Steve’s boots, then drags up. By the time he finally meets Steve’s eyes, Steve is shifting back and forth on his feet, stomach flopping uncomfortably. Billy tilts his head a little, eyes astoundingly dark for how bright blue they are.</p><p>“Are you?” Billy asks, voice a low rasp, and Steve suddenly needs to walk away, needs to focus Billy’s attention elsewhere, rather than solely on him. He can’t handle the intensity of it.</p><p>“Come inside,” he says on an exhale. “We’ll explain everything.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>rip dart</p><p>he was just looking for dustin, guys :(</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>